A big, raw-boned Jerseyman strode into the place, as though he had made
up his mind to squander some of his hard-earned cash in order to see the
really gorgeous performance.
[Illustration]
Sliding up to the box office I heard him demand one of the best seats
and laid down a five-dollar bill. A coupon and three dollars was handed
to him. When he asked what the ticket cost and was told that it was two
dollars, it was evident that he expected to pay half a dollar at most.
"Two dollars to see the forty thieves, eh?" he repeated.
"Yes, sir," said the box-office man.
"Well, keep your durned seat," exclaimed the man from Jersey. "I don't
think I care to see the other thirty-nine."
Then there's the elevator boy in our apartment house, who was born and
brought up in the city.
He had a little flag pinned on his coat, and I was joking him on his
patriotism.
[Illustration]
"What have you ever done for your country, Bill?" I asked.
Would you believe it, that urchin had the nerve to look me wickedly in
the eye and say:
"Well, I guess I've raised a good many families, sir."
On the train I met a man I used to know.
After we had been chatting about generations a while, I asked:
"How about that wedding out in your town that I saw mentioned in the
papers--did it come off without a hitch?"
"Well, I guess so."
"Everybody pleased, of course, as usual?"
[Illustration]
"Everybody nothing, everybody as mad as hornets, you mean. The groom
didn't show up, the bride got screeching hysterics, and the father's
been prowling round with a shotgun ever since," said my friend.
"But see here--you said it went off well?" I broke in.
[Illustration]
"No, I didn't. You asked if it went without a hitch and I assented, for
how could there be a hitch without the bridegroom."
But, say, I must tell you about being in court the other day.
The smart lawyer had the witness in hand, and it appeared to be his plan
of campaign to impeach the man's testimony, by showing what a bad
citizen he was.
"Now," said he, very deliberately, "will you have the goodness in
conclusion, Mr. Gallagher, to answer me a few questions; and be pleased
to remember, sir, that you are on your oath, and have sworn to tell the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"Certainly, sor," replied the witness, whom I thought an honest-looking
fellow, though hardly smart enough to hold his own against a lawyer's
search-light methods.
"Now, Mr. Gallagher, we have reason to believe that at the present time
there is a female living with you who is known in the neighborhood as
Mrs. Gallagher. Kindly tell the jury if what I say is true?"
"It is, sor."
"Ah! yes, and Mr. Gallagher, is she under your protection?"
"Sure."
"Now, on your oath, do you maintain her?"
"I do."
"And have you ever been married to her?"
"I have not."
The lawyer smiled just here, with the proud consciousness of having
rendered that man's testimony not worthy of being taken into
consideration.
"That is all, Mr. Gallagher, you may step down," he said.
"One moment, please," remarked the opposing counsel; "with the
permission of the court I would like to ask a question."
"Granted," said the judge.
"Mr. Gallagher, remembering that you are on oath to tell the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth, be pleased to state the relation
which this objectionable female bears to you."
[Illustration]
"She's me grandmother, sure," said Gallagher.
In Central Park I saw a policeman wheeling a baby carriage, with the
little cherub sound asleep inside.
Possibly the nurse had eloped with another copper, and this chap was
taking the abandoned infant to the station that it might be claimed.
[Illustration]
"Why are you arresting a little child like that?" I asked the officer.
"Kidnaping," he said, with a grin, pointing to the slumbering baby.
Don't look round but let me whisper. There's an ancient couple at the
back of the hall enjoying a basket-lunch. That's what I call combining
pleasure with lunch. Now at the place where I dine we do things
differently. There we combine business with lunch. The legend over the
portals of the restaurant reads:
"Business Luncheons."
[Illustration]
I suppose they make that candid announcement because it's anything but a
pleasure to make way with what they serve there.
The other day when I dined there the waiter came round and asked:
"What are you going to have?"
"I guess a beefsteak--but see here, waiter, not a small one. I'm that
nervous to-day every little thing upsets me."
"Pardon me for asking, sir," said the waiter, between the courses, "but
what's made your eye black and blue? Perhaps you've been having a little
affair with the gloves."
"Yes," I replied, carelessly; "I've been going through an operation at
the hands of a knockulist, that's all."
Then I turned my attention to the roast chicken, which reminded me of
another affair.
You shall hear it.
Teddy O'Toole, who gave me so much amusement last summer while I was
sojourning in a mountain town, has been at it again, I hear.
He is a sad case.
What do you think, his last trick was but to play good old Father Ryan
for a dinner.
Let me tell you the ingenious way the graceless scamp went about it.
First of all, being hard set by hunger, what does he do but steal a fat
young fowl from the priest's henyard.
Having wrung its neck he presented himself before the reverend father,
looking sadly repentant.
[Illustration]
"What now, Teddy?" asked the old man, who was growing weary of wrestling
with the devil as personified in the vagrant.
O'Toole, with his head hanging low, confessed that in an evil moment he
had stolen a fowl, and then, stung by the lashing of his conscience, had
come to confess his wrong.
The father, of course, began to lecture him.
Then Teddy, as if desirous of doing penance, offered the fowl to his
reverence, which shocked Father Ryan more, and he added to his words of
reproach.
"But faith, phat shall I do with the burrd at all?" asked Teddy.
"First, return it to the owner."
"Indade and I've done the same, and be me sowl he's actually refused to
resave the purty creature."
"That is strange, and complicates matters. Stay, there is one other
chance left. Find some poor widow who is in need, and present her with
the wretched bird."
"And thin will ye confess me?" demanded Teddy.
"Of a surety, since the good deed will have balanced the evil one,"
returned the priest.
So away posted that miserable sinner to the house of the Widow McCree,
and she only too gladly cooked the bird, since she had the fire handy.
[Illustration]
Thus pooling their resources they fared merrily.
And I am told on good authority that Teddy, determined to do the thing
up as it should be, presented himself before the priest on the same
evening, related how he had given the fowl to a poor widow in need, and
received absolution as meekly as though he might be but an erring saint
instead of a scheming sinner.
His pranks always amuse me.
Though on more than one occasion I've found the laugh didn't seem to
come quite so spontaneously, when the joke was on me.
This happened on a recent occasion.
I thought I had enough common sense about me not to be caught by such a
picayune piece of tom-foolery, but no doubt at the time my mind was
wrestling with some of the weighty questions that daily beset a
professional man.
At any rate I fell an easy victim.
And I feel foolish every time I think of the affair.
There were seven gay boys in Snyders when I entered, and having seen me
coming, through the glass door, they seemed to be engaged in serious
discussion.
"Here he is now--he can settle the argument himself," said Tom
Radcliffe.
"What's it all about?" I asked, innocently.
"Why, Craigie here said you understand German, and I told him he was
badly mistaken, and that I didn't believe you could translate five words
of it."
"Oh! well, I don't pretend to be a scholar, but I've rubbed against some
Teutons in my day, and may say without egotism that I've conversed in
German," I replied, for it rather galled me to have Radcliffe say that.
"Bosh!" exclaimed my detractor, "I've an idea the simplest sentence
would stump you. Say, what does 'Was wollen Sie haben' mean, anyhow?"
"Why, what will you have?"
[Illustration]
"Scotch for me," said Radcliffe, and the others said that would suit
them to a fine point.
But I don't believe they would have caught me so easily if cares of
state had not occupied my mind--you see I was sitting on a new
scientific joke, and waiting for it to hatch.
Talking of science, I've found that it pays a man to keep right up with
the times.
By observing small things he is able to increase his reputation among
those who read less.
Let me prove this to you.
When that eclipse of the sun came I was down among the mountains of
North Carolina.
The district was a wild one, and they made considerable moonshine
whiskey round there, too; but as I received no salary from the
government for looking after these mountain-dew men, I shut my eyes to
their little game.
You see I hadn't forgotten all the trouble they gave my friend Bill Nye
when he retired to these North Carolina wilds to make up his funny
books.
It occured to me that I might have some fun with the ignorant darkies
over the eclipse.
[Illustration]
So, meeting old Uncle Lisha the day before, I told him how his chickens
would all go to roost before noon on the following day.
Of course the old fellow was incredulous, and just as I supposed,
circulated my prophecy round.
Well, now, I'm telling you there were some pretty badly scared darkies
in that section when it began to get dark about eleven o'clock.
[Illustration]
And the fowls perched high all right.
I never passed a cabin after that, but every inmate ran to the door and
gaped after me in dumb admiration.
It was a great temptation to pose as a wizard, but I was wise enough to
forbear.
Something sudden sometimes happens to wizards and other objectionable
people down in that country.
Why, I remember one day seeing a poor woman sitting outside her door,
and crying while she dipped snuff.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"They's took my old man an' rided him on a rail," she said.
"That's bad."
[Illustration]
"An' then they done tarred and feathered him."
She wept copiously at the memory.
My tender heart beat in sympathy with her.
"My good woman, I'm really sorry for you. It must have been terrible
hard," I said.
"It were," she cried. "They done took my best feather bed."
But to return to the eclipse.
A few days later I ran across Uncle Lisha again, and he took his hat off
very humbly.
"Well, did it all happen as I said, uncle?"
"'Deed an' it did, sah, jest to de letter. 'Scuse me, but did I
understan' you to say, sah, dat you knowed all about dat ting for a long
time back dat it would happen?"
"Why, yes, quite a while, uncle," I replied.
"Mout it a ben as much as a yeah, sah?"
"Oh, two of them I'm certain," I replied, carelessly.
"Dat am shore a powerful queer ting," said the old man, scratching his
head in perplexity as I rode on, "case, you see, sah, dem chickens waunt
eben hatched den, and yet you knowed it all. Powerful strange."
I might have talked all week and that old fellow would never have
understood.